


Brine and Prejudice

by SecretReyloTrash (BadOldWest)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Alternate Universe - Regency, I recount Palp's 3D chess master plan according to JJ and it made me dizzy to write it all out, M/M, Mature Love, References to Jane Austen, So Many Pickle Jokes, elopement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:14:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23824411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadOldWest/pseuds/SecretReyloTrash
Summary: It is a truth prune-iversally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a mighty empire must be in want of a granddaughter to kill him so he can inhabit her body like a hot young Avatar.Snalps Regency AU
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Sheev Palpatine/Snoke
Comments: 13
Kudos: 63
Collections: F@$k Cancer in the Ass (For a Good Cause)





	Brine and Prejudice

_It is a truth prune-iversally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a mighty empire must be in want of a granddaughter to kill him so he can inhabit her body like a hot young Avatar._

To accomplish this in a Galaxy Far, Far Away, one might pursue such a life by creating a clone child, being murdered, returning to life through mysterious means, spending a lifetime in search of the natural child of one’s clone progeny, killing one’s own clone-progeny in search of their child, creating another briney, handsome devil in a vat to seduce a young man of good breeding, and such the man will seduce the Emperor’s Clone Son’s Daughter despite active discouragement from the loyal, moldable Handsome Devil enlisted to control the young man because the two young souls are bonded in an unforeseeable engagement through a dyad in the Force, using that Handsome Devil to urge the young prince to murder the daughter of one’s own clone progeny only for a most unexpected murder of that Handsome Devil (a waste of good brine but _completely_ necessary to the success of the plot), urging the murderer to then bring forth the granddaughter as an act of unforeseen betrayal that his honor will not abide, and waiting until one’s clone’s son’s daughter comes to find you to kill you herself. 

It is the simplest route to happiness. 

But the road to happiness is not as straight as we’d all like, and thus, a tale of twist and turns and perilous charms is the path this story will take. 

* * *

_No one who had ever seen Sheev Palpatine in his infancy would have supposed him born to be a romantic hero._ He was a plotter. His fortune had been secured not by name but by labor: a constant labor that wore a dark cloak of comfort but veiled an inner world of tactical mechanization that would bring any man, Jedi, or dyad, to their knees.

He had made his fortune later in life, perhaps too late to have his many virtues rewarded by the label of eligibility. His old heart was too guarded for the attractions towards a gentleman of society with vast wealth and influence. Perhaps such was the sacrifice of his plans of democratic upheaval: much time had been spent building his empire and little time had been spent finding the soul he would share it with. 

Cloning technology had indeed ensured he could in fact share that with himself as long as he chose to do so. That repetitive cycle was the devil upon his poor nerves. 

In the drawing room of one Prince Kylo Ren, celebrating his betrothal to Emperor Palpatine’s granddaughter, Sheev had been disappointed by another afternoon where he condescended to visit the home of the mighty Skywalkers. Miss Palpatine was in fine health and good spirits and despite everyone in the Galaxy insisting that Kylo Ren would never marry, the Force intervened and handed him a pretty, amiable wife who was most accomplished in combat. 

However, with one pawn now taken from him forever, Sheev could do little else but sit in his chair and re-count the ranks still at his disposal. All of the Galaxy, it would seem, but one small loss was a sore one in his wrinkled old heart. 

Kylo Ren gently enquired about the health of his perfectly healthy bride: ignoring all of the elderly gentlemen in the room to dote unnecessary attention on the young woman. 

Sheev sniffed in displeasure. His health had been poor for decades now, and had not been asked once to disclose how he was feeling today. His visage had been slowly rotting like a peach at the end of summer, and yet no one was there to inquire after his condition.

His granddaughter giggled, her hand secured in her betrothed’s and her eyes bright from the gallantry and care in his words to her. 

Sheev had not heard anyone giggle in response to his presence for decades. 

His thoughts were quickly disrupted by the deliberate fluttering of a lacy fan.

* * *

_Supreme Leader Snoke, handsome, clever, and clothed in gold, with a comfortable dictatorship and ruthless disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly thirty-one years in a vat of cloning brine with very little to distress or vex him._

He was not yet acknowledged by the gruff, interestingly-textured visage of the man across the room from him. And in his best frock, no less. Armitage Hux was chattering on about the best breeder of orange cats to be found in this part of the country, but Snoke abandoned his spot by the window with the ginger stopped mid-sentence about his voyages to the continent to acquire what he called the finest creatures of the species. Snoke had not been listening for over half an hour.

Instead he took the empty seat beside the bachelor brooding in stern silence.

“You do not read, Emperor Palpatine, nor do you occupy your time with cards, or letter-writing, so I must assume that you sit and wait for conversation to be brought to you.”

“That’s the thing about being Emperor, if I were required to hear a person speak to me, I would order them to.”

Snoke slowed the flutter of his fan. 

“But if people only speak when demanded, one must lose the pleasure of a loyal tongue who knows exactly what to say.”

Palpatine sniffed. 

“And what say you?”

A small smile flickered from the gristly jaw behind the fan. Icy blue eyes looked coyly down at him.

“Are you happy for your only grandchild’s nuptials?”

“I will have to tolerate the change in routine. She will be far away in Corellia. Too far.”

Snoke clenched his fist around the fan, crunching it into tiny pieces that exploded every which way around the room. Hux gave a cry from over by the curtains as one lashed his cheek.

“I can find nothing else that matches the pleasure of molding a young mind. Like a fresh, unconquered planet.”

Sheev managed to raise a brow to this, if unmoved by the weight of a mass of wrinkles. He chuckled, cackled, and then coughed. A flutter of concern swarmed the room at the cancerous noise. 

From across the room, Kylo Ren carefully stepped in front of his betrothed to shield her from the hacking.

The Old Emperor settled with a wave of his hand. He had not found anything that matched the pleasure of Snoke’s loyal tongue knowing exactly what to do.

_Say._ Exactly what to _say._

“It seems we will both be faced with boredom once they are married.”

“Yes,” Snoke agreed amiably, _“very_ bored.”

“I seek…”

Snoke shook his head. Sheev closed his mouth in abject horror. Perhaps they had not been seeing as eye-to-eye as he first thought.

“I know exactly what you seek,” Snoke said, the torn flesh of his cheek curving into a smile. 

Maybe there was room in his heart for one more dark plot.

* * *

_The family of Skywalker had long been settled in the Galaxy._ They accepted their heir’s new bride with warm affection. There were plenty of long walks and the yields of every season’s bountiful harvest kept her active in the mornings and lazy in the evenings. She was charmed with happiness. 

Not nearly as charmed as her groom: but both were a pair together in charm.

A letter came for Rey in the early afternoon. The scrawl over the waxy paper was a familiar one. A worried flush rose over her cheeks. 

“Are you ill, my dear?” her husband gently touched her elbow. She nodded quickly and despite that made her excuses to remove herself from the room entirely. 

Kylo Ren coughed after her departure, half-standing and seating himself again about five or six times. His mother cut him a severe look. 

“Women do not respond to sentiments half-offered,” she said grimly. She was unconventionally married but perfectly content to live by a marriage of which she had secured the terms. Her husband was happy to enjoy his leeway in those standards, and chuckled at his son scrambling to recognize them in his own marriage.

It was a balanced union. As would be the fortunate match of a dyad.

Upon her advice, her son swiftly left the room to find his wife. A trembling white hand covered her face as she examined the letter. Her shock made panic rise through him and he swept close. Before he could inquire about her distress, she turned to him with tears in her eyes.

“My grandfather has run away,” she cried out in despair. “With Snoke!”

* * *

_About fifty years ago Emperor Sheev Palpatine, of Naboo, with only the rank of Senator, had the good luck to captivate Anakin Skywalker, of Tatooine, on the planet of Coruscant, and to be thereby raised to the rank of a head of a Galactic Empire, with all the comforts and consequences of a formerly handsome henchman and large sleeves._

It came time for him to share his fortune. His clone granddaughter was being carried away by a Skywalker fleet of horses, happily married with nary a wrinkle in her road to happiness.

Palpatine had many wrinkles. So did Snoke: from the continued soaking in cloning brine.

A young curate adjusted his collar as he examined the chapel: he’d never been called in to a church at this time of night. But the pair would not take no for an answer. He ruffled his curls and blinked at his bible: he had not had to perform a wedding on such short notice. It would have been suspect if not for the advanced age of the lovers. Perhaps the urgency came at the end of life, he supposed, and did not pry further for a reason for their haste.

“Somehow, Palpatine has returned— _the affections of another accomplished Dictator…”_

**Author's Note:**

> Hey All! This was written inspired by [this lovely work of art](https://twitter.com/selunchen/status/1251881855395266561?s=20) by [Selunchen](https://twitter.com/selunchen) and as a $5,000 goal for an ongoing fundraiser for the Colorectal Cancer Alliance created by [@SpaceMinstrels](https://twitter.com/SpaceMinstrels) on twitter (more information about that [here](https://twitter.com/SpaceMinstrels/status/1250957840421797889?s=20)).


End file.
